Pulchritudinous
by If-I-Were-A-Wolf
Summary: Some men just can't be saved. John/Mike


**Alriiiight. This one is kinda... odd. And sad. I don't know how to react to it. But enjoy it.**

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John Hennigan's father always said that the world was made up of beautiful people, or people who wished they were beautiful. There were only two types of people. People like John. And then the wannabes. Jealous people. Lustful people. People who wanted John or wanted to be him. He had told John that he was lucky. He had told his only son that he was one of the lucky ones. That people would fight for his attention. Boy and girls, men and women would claw at each other to get to John. "Perfection is everything." The elder told his son, who had been on the brink of adolescence.

And of course, John believed him. He knew how attractive he was. "I'm not vain, you're just jealous." The gorgeous brunette would always say to anyone who commented on John's obsession with the mirror, and the reflection that came with it. Love never came easy because of it. Maybe it's because men struggled to hold onto to something so... wanted. So desired. Like one man trying to capture a star for himself. It was simply too bright. Too beautiful. Too wanted by others.

If only John's father had seen it. If he only he'd seen how much it would affect someone, when you told them how beautiful they were. How they needed to maintain it. How it would define them.

The need to be perfect and beautiful consumed John. Obsessed with being the best. Maybe he wasn't the best in the ring or on the mic, but no one could compare. Stares. No one got stares like John did. Similar to Shawn Michaels, some would say. That attention craving element. That beauty. The ability to lure men in and break their hearts- intentional or not. John would drink more than he would eat. Because that need to be perfect became pathological. It became more than an obsession. It became John's life. It began to define him.

Until he met the blond haired, blue eyed beauty that was Mike Mizanin. A man who was able to capture the star that was John Hennigan. So bright, and so amazing, yet so deadly. Mike knew that look in John's eyes the moment he saw him. That pained look as he watched others stuff their faces in carbs and sugar. While he sat there, forcing salad down his throat, only to puke it up later.

"You think I don't know what you're doing?" Mike had confronted John.

"Let it be, Mike. You don't understand." John had whispered.

The blond had shook his head "You don't need to do that to yourself. You don't need to put yourself through pain. My god, John. How do you not see how beautiful you are already?" Mike had that part wrong.

The thin, green eyed brunette had scoffed. "I know I'm beautiful. I _know_ that. And I will do anything to maintain that, Mike! I love you. Don't you see? I just... want to be perfect for you." He said, smiling softly.

Mike looked at John. He remembered looking into John's eyes, searching for answers, but all he found was sickness and disease. He found a disgusting, unhealthy addiction. He saw the eyes of a beautiful, broken doll.

They had this fight so many times. Mike always tried to make his words more meaningful than the last time. Trying to make John believe it. "I don't want perfection. I want Johnny." He's whisper into John's ear, stroking that silky hair while tears streamed down John's perfect face.

Perfect. So fucking perfect. Even when he cried. It even frustrated Mike sometimes. To see something look so flawless, yet have everything so... _wrong_ on the inside. And so Mike tried talking to people. He needed to know how to... make John better. But it was one statement that he'd heard from John's best friend, Shawn Michaels."

"Some people just... can't be fixed." Shawn had said.

At first, he didn't believe Shawn. Mostly out of denial. But everyone said it. Everyone who had talked to John said the same thing.

_"John? Hennigan? He's crazy."_

_"He can't get better."_

_"No one and nothing will save him."_

_"Unfixable."_

_"He can't be saved."_

_"Give up, Mike."_

Give up? Give up on his one true love? No. No way. John was his one and only. He'd do anything to protect him. Even if that meant saving John from himself. Mike could remember sitting in the condo they bought together. He watched John straighten his hair. Those lovely facial features graced with a look of concentration.

"Your hair look perfect the way it is. C'mon, boo." Mike said, standing and sliding his hands in his pockets.

John turned, and laughed that melodic laugh. "It takes time to look this good. Be patient." He has said, continuing to work on his hair.

"If you say so," the blond rolled his eyes and headed into the kitchen. He looked through the cabinets where they kept the booze, trying to find something to drink. In the very back, hidden in the corner, he found a little bottle. Mike could remember the disappointment he felt when he saw it was ipecac syrup. A syrup to induce vomiting. He shook his head, and dumped it down the drain.

Disappointment was something John had grown used to when he had dated Mike. "I'm sorry, baby." A phrase John tried again and again. But it never seemed to work. And John just didn't understand what was wrong. He was thin. He was beautiful. He was perfect. For Mike. He was doing this for the love of his life.

Who wouldn't want a trophy lover? Mike loved his trophy, right? His one true love. The love he would treasure until the end of time. And John... He knew he was a trophy. John was a Prince. Even a Princess at times. It was hard to see him and not... want him. Want to see that smile. That gorgeous... white smile. A smile that would soon last for all and eternity.

Months passed, along with a couple of years. Years of the "It" couple. Mike and John. The power couple. Gorgeous together. Yet so imperfect behind scenes. The passing weeks took pounds off of John with them. Besides the fighting... the yelling... screaming, they had beautiful moments that were strictly unique to them. No other couple could share.

_"I like your face."_

_"I like your eyes."_

_"I'm wearing contacts, Johnny."_

_"I can see right through them." _

And then came that special smile.

John had been an odd one. Taking Mike to the oddest places for dates. Saying the strangest compliments. "I like your tie. It makes you neck look sexier." Mike could still here his voice. That sweet voice, whispering compliments and sweet nothings in his ear. He could hear that melodic laugh ring through the bleak hotel room like imaginary Christmas bells on a magical figure's sleigh.

Mike heard that laugh in his sleep.

At some point, it became haunting. If only Mike had known treating John the way he wanted would kill them both. Make John become a monster. He shouldn't have treated John like a trophy. He should have treated him like a man. A gorgeous guy, who was deserving of unconditional love. He should have known better than to feed John's addiction.

Addiction to be perfect.

Cocaine would have been a safer addiction. For John, at least. As their relationship progressed, and birthdays passed, he could see John's sickness growing into a form of cancer. A cancer that was eating up the beautiful man from the inside out. John was willing to go through any amount of pain for that perfection. And even battling with himself. Pushing himself to insanity.

_"Cut." Said the razor._

_"Scars aren't pretty." Said John's ego._

Mike was never aware of John's inner battle until the coda. The very end of a beautiful symphony. However, John watched him lose himself in the glory. The limelight that the industry brought upon him. But Mike simply saw it as more pressure. John had the pressure to be perfect for the world. And be perfect for Mike.

Of course, that's where tragedy always strikes.

A need. An obsession. A sickness. An illness. Maybe it's one thought. One little thought. Starting out as a child. A boy. A father telling his only son that he was perfect. He was beautiful. And that he was to do everything to maintain that. A father telling his child that beauty was his ticket to the top. That he was perfection.

And that child listened. More than the father intended. That... thought. That thought of perfection grew into a lifestyle. It grew into the definition of that boy's life. He would be oriented around his father's words. Through his relationships. And his relationship with the sweetest guy in the world. That obsession became more important than even him.

If only John's father knew what telling John those words would do to him.

If only Mike knew how to stop it in time, before he found a horrifying sight in his bedroom. Of his lover, cold and unmoving because he had gotten older, and he had a need to be eternaly beautiful.

If only they knew how dangerous John's game was.

If only Mike realized that he should have saved John earlier. Saved him from himself. And made him believe that death was not the way to stay beautiful, because Mike would have loved him no matter what. He should have tried _harder_.

John's father should have never planted that thought in his son's brain.

There should have never been that obsession.

There should have never been that illness. He never should have had to shove fingers down his throat.

He should have never wanted to cry bloody tears, and then hate himself afterwards. In fact, there should have never been that self loathing in the first place.

If only they knew how dangerous and monstrous pulchritude was. Especially and specifically in John. Because it would never consume another human like it had in the beautiful creature that was John Hennigan.

If only everyone realized before it was too late.

Mike could still hear that sweet voice, whispering the most haunting tale he had ever heard. One bedtime story he'd hear in his nightmares for all and eternity. Everlasting, like John's beauty. Words that made Mike realize that John had already been dead, long before he met him. Maybe then, his heart wouldn't be so shattered at the loss.

_"Once upon a time, _

_there was a happy little boy._

_Then he grew up,_

_and turned into a pulchritudinous monster."_

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**So... review? I wanna know what you think.**


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